


Wherein Alea Sets Fire to the Thalmor Embassy

by LeilaSecretSmith (orphan_account)



Series: Vennesetiid [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Ah Elenwen, Assassin - Freeform, Gen, Infiltration, My Thalmortal enemy, Subtrefuge, Thalmor, Thalmor Embassy, There are serious disadvantages to being a baby Dragonborn, but also advantages, diplomatic immunity, disguises, hello naughty children it's murder time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: Delphine chewed on her nail as she paced the length of the basement with quick, agitated strides. “I had a plan,” she muttered, spinning on her heel fast enough to make her ponytail fly around and smack her in the face. “I had a good plan. A great plan, even! I was going to sneak you into one of Elenwen’s thrice-damned Thalmor parties.” She turned and gave Alea an absolutely tormented look, clutching at her hair. “But you're twelve! Twelve! How can you fake being someone important when you're twelve?”Alea, who was sitting at the table and absently toying with a soul gem as she waited for Delphine to rant herself out, finally looked up. “Well,” she said, grimacing reluctantly. “I... may have some friends who can help with that.”





	Wherein Alea Sets Fire to the Thalmor Embassy

**Author's Note:**

> This was NOT supposed to be this long, but... *shrugs*

Alea rolled out from behind a singed boulder and flopped onto the dirt with an exhausted wheeze. Greyish smoke rose in weak wisps from her sooty, smoldering robes. With an air of bone-deep tiredness, she raised one hand and patted out the flame on her sleeve cuff. 

Nearby, Delphine was bent half over her injured side, one hand braced on her knee. Blood flowed in thick streams from the long slice in her leather cuirass, courtesy of a stray dragon claw. She eyed Alea with some unspeakable emotion, glanced at the recently-killed-and-absorbed corpse of Sahloknir, then glanced back at the prone 12-year-old.

“So. You _are_ the Dragonborn,” she said blankly. Kynesgrove was so utterly silent in the wake of the dragon attack that she swore the whole town could hear her words.

Alea groaned and didn't bother to raise her masked face from the dirt.

Delphine sat hard on the ground and put her head in her hand. “Oh Divines,” she muttered, ignoring the blood that smeared across her skin. “We're doomed.”

* * *

 

The former Blade chewed on her nail as she paced the length of the basement with quick, agitated strides. “I _had_ a plan,” she muttered, spinning on her heel fast enough to make her ponytail fly around and smack her in the face. “I had a _good_ plan. A _great plan_ , even! I was going to sneak you into one of Elenwen’s thrice-damned Thalmor _parties._ ” She turned and gave Alea an absolutely tormented look, clutching at her hair. “But you're twelve! _Twelve!_ How can you fake being someone important when you're _twelve?”_

Alea, who was sitting at the table and absently toying with a soul gem as she waited for Delphine to rant herself out, finally looked up. “Well,” she said, grimacing reluctantly. “I... may have some friends who can help with that.”

* * *

 

A tense standoff took place in the Solitude stableyard. Delphine took one look at Leila’s grin and Kiera’s impassive stare and said “NO.”

(Flatly, but with feeling.)

Leila laughed uproariously, but Kiera merely raised one perfect black eyebrow. “You don't have much of a choice,” she said coolly. “Besides, we're both actual Thanes with actual invitations, and both _very_ invested in keeping our little sister alive. Leila even has a viable excuse to bring Ellie as a guest.”

Delphine glanced at Alea—or, more accurately, glanced at the impassive gray mask that peeked out from behind Kiera.

“Kynareth save me,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face, “ _fine!”_

* * *

 

Kiera, as the most dangerous and intimidating of the group, handled the transfer of gear to Malborn. She returned without a problem, rather unimpressed by the lanky Bosmer, and soon they were dressed and ready to go. Leila and Kiera went in their capacities as the Thanes of Riften and Falkreath respectively, dressed in the kind of practical finery one would expect of well-known warriors: fine wool cloaks over silk and brocade, accented with silver plate armor polished to a mirror shine.

Alea posed a bit more of a problem. “I am _not_ letting them see my real face!” she insisted, struggling to quickly adapt some illusion spells to change her appearance.

“We must go soon, little sister, and you can't reasonably wear your mask,” Kiera pointed out, trimming her nails with a knife as she waited for Alea to finish. “You might have to." 

“No,” the girl insisted, peering into the mirror she had filched from Leila. “I’ll get it, I promise. Just one more try.” She took a deep breath and let the Magicka fill her from the inside out, concentrating hard on the changes she wanted to make. Slowly, her curly black hair straightened and lightened into a pale wheat color. Her Breton-tan skin shifted into a creamy gold dappled with freckles. Her scars faded away. “There!” she said in delight, turning her head this way and that to better observe the changes.

Kiera paused and raised her eyebrows, impressed. Every once in awhile, her adopted little sister would do something truly remarkable with magic, something that reminded her that she was no ordinary child. It always made her just a little bit sad. “Very nice, Ellie.”

“You look like a proper Nord now, lass!” Leila said, popping up out of nowhere at Kiera’s side. The assassin reflexively elbowed her, and she went down with a painful thud.

“Ah, sorry, Leila,” Kiera said unconvincingly. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay,” she wheezed from the stable floor. “I’ll try to give you more obvious hints next time.”

This was followed shortly by a pained yelp and another unconvincing apology from Kiera about how she “just didn’t see you there, oh please, pardon my boot in your ribs”

“Now _you’re_ going to be the ones making us late,” Alea said with a sigh, fastening the last tie on her thick wool cloak. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

* * *

 

Leila and Alea rode together in a hired carriage, followed by Kiera on horseback. They reached the Embassy without issue, though Leila’s hand reflexively twitched toward the spot where her knife normally sat when the first Thalmor guards came into view. Alea covered this by quickly lacing their fingers together and shooting her a warning look.

Leila retaliated by leaping from the carriage and bodily lifting the girl down by her waist. “You're too light, little sister,” she said cheerily. “You should eat more.” Alea could do little more than glare petulantly, since Leila had already swept off toward the guards, invitation in hand. 

As usual, the red-headed thief charmed the pants off the guard within three sentences, so much so that the female wizard smiled down at Alea when she caught up and situated herself back at Leila’s side. She found the beaming expression to be very unnerving on an Altmer’s face.

“There you are Ma’am, little Ma’am,” she said, still smiling as she handed the invitation back. “You go right on in and enjoy yourselves.”

Leila laughed gaily and led Alea on with a hand on her shoulder. “We will, of course! Thank you!”

The sturdy metal door shut behind them with an ominous clang. A quiet butler took their heavy winter cloaks, whisking them off with barely a whispered word as they shook the snow from their boots and skirts. A flicker of movement caught Alea’s eye, and she glanced up to see Elenwen herself moving toward them.

It took every bit of training Kiera and Leila had given her to keep from bolting straight out the door. _She can’t see your real face,_ she reminded herself shakily.

“Welcome,” said Elenwen, her tone a skin-crawling mix of smarmy and predatory. Her cold eyes stayed locked on Alea’s young face. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim.”

“Ambassador Elenwen!” Leila said, smoothly stepping between them and breaking the Altmer’s line of sight as she offered a hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Have you?” Elenwen’s eyebrows rose as she shook the proffered hand. “All good things, I trust. But you have me at a disadvantage. I’m afraid I know nothing about you…?”

“Oh, forgive my manners,” Leila laughed, unbothered by the dangerous current underlying the Ambassador’s words. “I am Leila Iron-Bow, Thane of Riften. This is my little sister, Alea Spellweaver.”

Elenwen’s eyes flickered back to Alea’s face, and this time there was recognition. 

Leila leaned a little closer and said, in a conspiratorial tone, “she’s quite the up-and-coming mage at the College, you know. I thought she should start her political and diplomatic training immediately. It’s never too early to build ties for the College.” 

“Yes, quite,” said Elenwen. She addressed Alea directly, a spark of something like hunger in her eyes. “I’ve heard much about you, Spellweaver. Ancano speaks highly of your… aptitude.” 

 _I’ll be he does,_ Alea thought with disgust. Ancano hated her, mostly because she refused to listen to a word he said. For some reason, the caustic Thalmor agent had thought he could steal Alea right out from underneath Savos Aren’s nose and turn her into an obedient Thalmor agent.

Alea might have been young, but she certainly wasn’t stupid, as Ancano quickly discovered. 

“Has he?” she asked, blushing and burying her loathing beneath genuine embarrassment. “That’s good. I was afraid we had gotten off on the wrong foot, and, well, I’m still learning how to be a good diplomat.” 

The door swung open just as Elenwen made to reply, cutting her off with a torrent of freezing wind and stray snow. Kiera, followed closely by a harassed-looking Breton man, stepped into the foyer.

“Leila,” she acknowledged, her eyebrows rising in surprise as the Breton moved past her. “It's good to see you.” 

“Kiera!” Leila cried in delight, embracing the assassin as soon as her cloak had been taken. “Oh, you should have told me you were attending, we could have come together!”

“Maybe that's why I didn't tell you,” she responded dryly.

Elenwen interjected. “Kiera Darkblade?” 

“Thane of Falkreath, yes,” she said, bowing slightly. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador.”

The Altmer’s gaze sharpened. “Have we met before?”

“No, but I make it my business to know who’s who.” She smiled thinly.

“Well—” Elenwen stopped suddenly and glanced over her shoulder. “We’ll have to speak more later.” She looked specifically to Alea, who tried not to fidget under the intensity of her yellow eyes. “I would be more than happy to offer you some lessons on diplomacy, young Spellweaver.” 

Was there really a threat in that, or was Alea just being paranoid? She couldn't tell.

When Elenwen was out of earshot, Leila leaned down and whispered “good job, little sister! The hardest part is over, I think.” Alea simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “Now we have to mingle a bit. Come on.” 

Kiera had already faded seamlessly into the small crowd. Alea trailed after her adopted older sister like a well-dressed little shadow, doing her best to follow Leila’s lead when the ginger stopped to enthusiastically greet and chatter with various partygoers. She smiled easily and curtseyed when prompted, but spoke as little as possible. It was easy to paint her reticence as childish shyness. 

Finally, Kiera reappeared at her side. “Remember, like we practiced,” she whispered. Alea nodded, and there was a sudden upwelling of noise as the distraction began. Leila walked off to ‘see what all commotion was about.’ Alea waited a few seconds before frowning as if in pain and pressing her hands over her ears. She leaned back into Kiera, who adopted a suitably concerned look as she bent down and asked her what was wrong. Alea merely shook her head and turned, ‘hiding’ from the commotion.

Kiera offered the nearest guest an apologetic smile. “When Leila come back, please, tell her I took Alea back to Solitude. I think this is all a bit too overwhelming for her.” The guest nodded sympathetically, and Kiera wrapped a careful arm around her younger sister before leading her towards the door. When they were just passing Malborn’s position at the bar, Alea held her breath and cast an illusion spell. She ducked away smoothly and darted behind the counter, leaving Kiera to walk out with an illusory girl on her arm. 

Malborn, though visibly shocked by the display and by Alea herself, quickly ushered her into the back. He had a brief exchange with the Khajiit in the kitchen before she was safely ensconced in a pantry. At that point, he rounded on her furiously. “ _You’re_ it?” he hissed. “She sent a _child_ to do this?” 

“That’s none of your concern,” Alea said in her best authoritative voice even as she began struggling out of the many, many layers of her party dress. “Besides, the lady you spoke to will join me shortly.” She shot the elf a condescending look. “She doesn’t need _you_ to get back here, trust me.” 

Malborn still looked displeased, but now there was a considering glint in his eye. “Fine, not my problem,” he muttered. “Try not to get killed, kid. Or worse, captured.” 

On that cheerful note, he left.

Alea rolled her eyes and continued to methodically strip off the layers of cloth and decorative armor. She carefully folded up each piece and piled them into a cloth knapsack that had been left with Malborn for exactly that reason. It wouldn’t do to leave her disguise laying on the floor for all and sundry to find. Her robes went on quickly, and she sighed with profound relief as she slid the Dragon Priest mask into place and allowed her illusion to fade. Then she packed up the last bits of her gear and settled in to wait. 

Ten minutes later, like clockwork, there was a near-silent tap on the outer pantry door. Alea grinned and opened it, finding Kiera crouched on the other side, hooded and cowled as usual. There was something profoundly reassuring about seeing her in her customary assassin’s gear. The girl handed off her bag of party clothes, which Kiera slung securely onto her own back.

Kiera held one finger to her cloth-covered lips and gestured for Alea to follow. The Dragonborn did so without hesitation—if Kiera was trusting Alea’s sneaking skills, then everyone in their path was either dead or almost dead.

They snuck through an atrium and a side room, then through a sturdy metal door and out into the snowy internal courtyard. Various black-white-yellow-red lumps—dead Thalmor agents— were scattered through the snow, most decently hidden by shrubs and fresh snow. _You work quickly, big sister,_ she wanted to say, but of course she had to stay silent. 

They stopped at the door to Elenwen’s Solar. Kiera pulled her cowl down and leaned close to Alea, whispering in her ear. “When we go in, I want you to wait to the side while I take care of the agents. You are only to intervene if I’m outmatched or ambushed by a Thalmor wizard, clear?” Alea nodded firmly, summoning a paralysis spell to the tips of her fingers. Kiera patted her head and pulled the crimson cowl back up before opening the door.

A golden-armored Thalmor guard stood within sight of the door, but missed their entrance since he was busy observing an argument in one of the side rooms. Kiera shoved Alea behind a potted plant and darted off, circling through the shadows toward the lone guard. The Dragonborn watched with interest as Kiera crept up behind the Altmer, slammed a hand over his mouth, and slit his throat with one smooth movement. The elf flailed silently and died drowning in his blood as Kiera dragged him into the shadows, hiding the corpse behind another potted plant. 

The men arguing in the side room didn’t even notice. 

Kiera caught Alea’s eye and signaled for her to stay put, then prowled toward the open door. Someone named Gissur was arguing with some named Rulindil. Alea could guess which one was the Thalmor agent. Kiera swiped an empty bottle of ale and sent it rolling noisily along the stone floor until it stopped, glinting, in a patch of dim sunlight.

“What was that?” Gissur asked, leaning out the door curiously. That simple motion was all Kiera needed, and suddenly there was a knife embedded in his forehead. He toppled to the ground, dead. 

“Who’s there?” Rulindil roared, charging out of the room with electricity crackling at his fingertips. “Show yourself, coward!” Kiera lunged from the shadows, her Ebony blade flashing in the light, but Rulindil was faster than expected. He dodged smoothly, kicking one of the assassin's legs out from under her as he hit her with a blast of electricity. Kiera was thrown back violently, but rolled with the motion and regained her feet. 

Alea, feeling that this merited an intervention, popped up from her hiding place and hit the Thalmor Wizard with a paralysis spell before he even knew there was a second assailant in the room. He hit the floor with a meaty thud and Kiera motioned for her to freeze; both females stopped, breathing shallowly as they listened for any sounds from the rooms above. 

Nothing.

The assassin pulled down her cowl again, revealing a fierce, shark-like grin. “You want to know something _funny_ , Thalmor?” she asked lowly, pulling the paralyzed mer up by the front of his robes so that his furious eyes were level with hers. “You were just blindsided by a 12-year-old.” She turned him so he could see Alea, who waved cheerily as the mer’s eyes widened in shock.

“You wanna know something even funnier?” Alea chirped, bouncing over to her older sister. Kiera was clearly putting on a show, probably in a bid to get intel, and she was more than willing to play along. With a flourish, she pulled the mask off. “I’m the Dragonborn!”

Apparently, this revelation was enough to partially overcome the paralysis. “No,” Rulindil whispered in a strangled voice, staring at her young, feminine face in disbelief. “Impossible." 

“Very possible,” Alea contradicted, bouncing on her toes and offering him a sweet smile. “Now, what’s the Thalmor’s interest in me?”

Rulindil bared his teeth, his fingers twitching slightly in fury. “I’ll see to your death myself, ill-bred wretch,” he swore. “You will know the wrath of the Aldmeri Dominion!” 

Alea prepared another paralysis spell, but Kiera apparently decided that she wasn’t going to get what she wanted from this particular Thalmor, since the bloody tip of her ebony blade was suddenly protruding from his well-bred chest. Kiera dropped the corpse once the light had faded from his eyes, lip curling in disgust, and moved away from his slowly-pooling blood. “Well-bred mer indeed,” she murmured, cleaning her blade on the end of his robes. “But it wasn’t enough to save you, was it?” 

Less than a year ago, the mere sight of a corpse would have sent Alea into hysterics. But now, with everything she had seen and done, she merely shook her head and said: “come on, let's find those papers.” 

The room Rulindil and Gissur had been arguing in was, luckily enough, exactly what they had been looking for. Kiera rifled through the bookcase with swift, efficient movements while Alea searched the desk and the chest behind it. “Here they are!” the Dragonborn cried triumphantly, lifting a thick stack of papers and leatherbound dossiers. 

Kiera took the stack and carefully wrapped it in an oilskin, tucking it safely away in the bottom of her satchel. “One last place to look,” she said with an approving nod. “Let me go first.” 

They crept down the stairs together once Kiera had done a quick sweep of the upper floor. The assassin signaled for quiet again as she eased the basement door open and disappeared inside. Alea waited, crouched in a shadowed corner. Kiera reappeared a second later and beckoned her in, locking the door behind them. She gestured for the Dragonborn to wait on the mezzanine and held up a single finger. _One guard._ Alea nodded in understanding. 

Kiera crept down the stairs. Thirty seconds later there was a sharp _shing_ of metal on metal and a brief cry, followed by a low gurgle. “Come down,” Kiera called. 

The floor below was a torture room, complete with all the accouterments thereof. Alea wrinkled her nose at the lingering smell of blood and burned flesh. Kiera darted from door to door, freeing the prisoners and directing those who were less injured to help those who were unable to move. She saved the cell closest to the door for last. 

“He's the one we want,” she said, jerking her chin at the terrified man within, who was staring at them with horror and apprehension. “You talk to him. I'm going to check the chests.”

Alea nodded and opened the cell door, stepping slowly within. “Hi,” she said, her voice coming out in a deep timbre thanks to the enchantment on her mask. “I'm here to free you. What's your name?” 

The man hesitated and she held still under his uncertain gaze. “Etienne,” he said finally. “Etienne Rarnis.” 

“Well, Etienne,” she said gently, moving forward and telegraphing her movement as she reached for his shackles. “I wish we had met under better circumstances. I'm the Dragonborn.”

“You are?” The man breathed in wonder as she helped him stand. “Oh praise the Divines. I didn't think you were real!” 

“I'm very real, trust me,” she said. “Can you tell me why they had you?” 

“They—they wanted to find some old guy named Esbern. I told them there's a crazy old man in the Ratway, beneath Riften, but I don't know for sure if that guy is Esbern.”

Kiera reappeared suddenly, startling both of them. “Leila will know,” she said, slinging Etienne’s arm over her shoulder and taking his weight from Alea. 

“Leila?” Etienne said in surprise. “Iron-bow? She’s in the Guild!”

 “The very same. Tell me, do you know a faster way out of here?”

“Yes, there’s a trap door. They dropped corpses there, sometimes. I think it leads into the mountains.”

At that moment, the door on the mezzanine opened. Kiera shoved Etienne into the alcove where the trap door was, motioning frantically for the rest of the prisoners to hide. Malborn appeared at the railing, hands bound and expression resigned, followed by two Thalmor guards. 

“Listen up, spy!” one of the guards called out. “You’re trapped in here. We have your accomplice. Surrender immediately or you both die.” 

Draconic rage rose in Alea’s chest. She had no doubt what would happen to Kiera, to Malborn, and to the prisoners if she surrendered. The Thalmor had no compunctions about hurting the innocent. Without thinking, she stepped out from the alcove and lifted her head, words of power bubbling up through her chest and out from her lips. 

“FUS, RO DA!”

The guards went flying and slammed into the wall, but Malborn was far enough from the center of her shout that he only staggered. “RUN, you idiot!” she screamed when he gaped like a stunned fish. A fireball formed between her hands, and she poured every bit of rage-fueled magicka she had into it. Behind her, Kiera was rushing the prisoners out through the trap door, apparently sensing what she was about to do. Malborn sprinted past her and dove through the hatch just as the dazed guards regained their feet.

Even at a distance, Alea could see the terror in their eyes as they saw the white-hot sphere above her palm, fire so hot that it had become plasma rather than flame. They moved, scrambling for the door, but not fast enough. With a furious scream, Alea hurled the ball of plasma. It exploded between the Thalmor like a miniature sun, burning their mortal bodies to ashes in a split second. Alea raised a ward around herself and the trapdoor alcove as the blast radiated out, splintering wooden beams and setting everything within the room on fire. The inferno spread hungrily and inexorably upward, howling like a living thing. 

 _Let it burn_ , she thought viciously, dropping through the hatch and sealing it with a temporary ward. _Let it all burn!_


End file.
